Tuesday, August 19, 2008
A knife, a fork, a bottle and a cork. That's the way we spell New York.
That's me on the left. Whistling the tune of rainbows and right before the most glorious sunset.
here's the story of new york city:
You arrive, and some people are very excited to see you. You get $3 anytime bar margaritas and end up at some hip hop show where everyone has the same haircut as you. The next day is sunny, the weatherman is a liar. You sit in union square and buy dresses because it's just that kind of grassy laze that can't be done in pants. Before you forget, you stop by barnes and Nobles to buy two magazines: Curve, a lesbian one where your most recent ad is featured, and Radar,which contains your friends article: hipster hookers.You take vain pictures and go get coffee.
The coffeeshop is your favorite, in a neighborhood you can't afford to live in anymore. You know the girls that work there. You've slept with one of them, and you awkwardly flirt with her while you order. You leave early to get glitter and costumes for a renegade parade. You arrive at battery park: glittering strangers, dancing ferociously, inspiring onlookers to join.
You ride the staten Island ferry for the first time amongst 500 stilting, bubbling, hulahooping freaks and feel right at home. You end up in a park with acrobats and fire spinners. Later on that night, someone gets shot there.
As your muscles begin to ache, a nice guy buys you coconut water to replace your potassium. You buy a 32 oz blue moon and head to the after party. The same nice guy gives you mushrooms. Another nice guy gives you pot brownies, since you can't smoke with those post-wisdom teeth removal holes. You want to love everyone, and go around smiling and talking up a storm. You can't love the girl you used to date, she brought a new one. That saddens you for a brief moment. Instead of dwelling, you dance with the woman who throws the party to a Baltimore DJ Icon and have epiphanies.
You realize that when you are completely happy, you never feel like you are missing out. There is piece of you that stops wandering to the past and the future. Be it sitting in your room drinking wine, or kissing a girl- true happiness is two things: living in the moment, and knowing there is nowhere else you'd rather be.
You are there, in that perfect happy moment. You get a phone call from another girl who is getting arrested and beaten up at the other renegade street party. You worry about her.
You and your friend go around the corner to another party and dance to Drill and Bass till the cops shut it down. Backtracking, you watch the sunrise while the full moon is still up and think about how even if everything in the world were awful, the moon and the sun and the stars are always there to remind you of simple brilliance.
You think of this quote: "you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars" by e e cummings. You wish you were those things to someone. You, and the whole crew responsible for the night head to a diner that's about to close. They stay open for you and serve you $5 per person unending family style breakfast. As part of tip, your friend hula hoops for the diner manager.
You begin to stumble home at 7:30 AM, putting on your sunglasses. There is glitter in them and you walk back seeing a world as a purple shimmering mass.